


if life were only moments (or: 3 times dean worried about jack and 1 time he didn't have to)

by Gavroche_A



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Dean bakes bread, Fluff, Guilty Dean Winchester, M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavroche_A/pseuds/Gavroche_A
Summary: Of all the things Dean thought would eventually defeat him, a damn holiday bread recipe never really made the list. Demons? Sure. Vamps? Maybe on a bad day. But hell, he’d defeated God himself. He should really be able to do this.did someone say dean baking bread? fic inspired by this post: https://crxstalcas.tumblr.com/post/637058788867883009title and lyrics at the beginning from 'moments in the woods' from into the woods.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	if life were only moments (or: 3 times dean worried about jack and 1 time he didn't have to)

_ Oh, if life were made of moments _

_ Even now and then a bad one! _

_ But if life were only moments _

_ Then you'd never know you had one _

i. december 22nd

Of all the things Dean thought would eventually defeat him, a damn holiday bread recipe never really made the list. Demons? Sure. Vamps? Maybe on a bad day. But hell, he’d defeated  _ God himself.  _ He should really be able to do this. 

He pulls up the recipe again, checking the ingredients against his shopping list against the contents of his shopping cart. He should get back to the bunker soon, before anyone gets suspicious. He just needs the nuts. Not that he has a particular love for pecans, but Jack likes them, and he’s pretty sure even Sam will approve of the recipe he picked. Dried cranberries and nuts are healthy, right? He’s trying.

He makes his way to the nut aisle. And his heart sinks. There are no pecans. No cashews, either, and hardly any walnuts, which Jack doesn’t even like. “No, no, no, come  _ on.  _ Son of a bitch.”

He takes a hand through his hair. “This can’t be happening.” He mutters, digging through the bags on the shelves, hoping for a straggler. No luck. This is what he gets for putting off the shopping until the last minute. But it was the only time he’d been able to sneak off on his own. Sam and Eileen were watching a documentary together when Dean left, and Cas and Jack were wrapped up in some new board game the kid had gotten as an early Christmas present, because he has better puppy dog eyes than Sam ever did, and Cas, especially, is wrapped around his little finger. 

If he weren’t so stressed, he’d smile at the memory of dropping a shy kiss to the top of Cas’ head as he’d walked through the library on his way out. Things between them were still so new. It hadn’t been that long since Jack used Chuck’s powers to make a portal to the Empty for Dean to slip through and rescue Cas. Since then, Dean had managed to pull his head out of his ass long enough to tell Cas what a dumbass he was for thinking he couldn’t have Dean. It was more eloquent in the moment. Or, at least, he hopes it was. But even thinking about Cas doesn’t calm his nerves. In fact, it makes them worse. He’d wanted to apologize to both of them, for how things went down with Chuck, but he can’t do anything right, it seems.  _ “Damn it!”  _

“Are you alright, son?” A gentle voice behind him asks.

Dean whirls. Evidently, being on an extended vacation from hunting has made him rusty. He’s not usually easily snuck up on. Then again, he’s started to allow his walls down just the smallest fraction, ever since they defeated Chuck. 

There’s a short woman behind him, with kind brown eyes behind small glasses and straight gray hair that falls to her chin. She’s frowning at him in concern. He feels his cheeks flush, embarrassed that this stranger had evidently noticed his distress. 

“M’fine. Just...frustrated. Sorry.” He offers her a sheepish smile. “Guess this is what I get for waiting til the last minute to do the shopping. No pecans.” He gestures to the empty shelf behind him.

She frowns. “Well now, I’m sure we can find something. What are you making?” 

Dean blinks, taken off guard. Maybe it’s the fact that he grew up with  _ don’t talk to strangers, don’t trust anyone, if someone is kind it’s always a trap  _ drilled into his head. Or maybe it’s because, since they haven’t been taking cases lately, and that’s basically his only source of social interaction apart from his family in the bunker, he’s a little out of practice talking to people. He had expected the woman to snap at him about language, not offer her help. It takes him a moment to find his words. 

“Um. Bread. I’m making cranberry and pecan bread. for my, uh. My kid.” He flushes again, clearing his throat. “At least, I  _ was _ . But there’s only walnuts, and that’s not...I can’t use those. He doesn’t like those. And I can’t make it without nuts, ‘cause he loves pecans, and it’s supposed to be a surprise, he’s been through a lot, and I wanted this Christmas to be special, but I don’t know what I’m doing, and I waited too long to come to the store, and now there’s no pecans, and I’m…” he shakes his head. “I’m just no good at this.” He takes a wobbly breath, fidgeting with his shopping list. God. Overshare, much?

“Um. Sorry. You didn’t need to know all that.” 

The old woman smiles softly, shaking her head. “It’s alright, honey. It’s a stressful time of the year. Especially when you have kids. How old is your son?”

Dean pauses, hesitant. That’s a more complicated question than she could possibly know. “He’s...a teenager. But he’s only been with me and my…” he fumbles for a word. He has no idea how to label his and Cas’ relationship. “Boyfriend” feels juvenile, and anyway, he’s not really in the mood to come out to a stranger in the supermarket today. Finally, he abandons the label and tries again. “He’s been with us for three years.” He settles on. True enough.

The woman’s smile widens knowingly. “You know, I used to foster children.” She tells him, and Dean raises his eyebrows. “Always tried to make Christmas really special, ‘cause of everything they’d been through.”

Dean nods, blowing out a deep breath. “Jack’s been through...so much. Even since we’ve had him, I...I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Hell,  _ more _ than half the time. And I’ve messed up a lot with him. Especially recently.” He thinks about all the times he’d turned on Jack, about pointing a gun at him, trapping him in the Ma’lak box, handing him Adam’s rib and letting him turn himself into a bomb, about how ready he’d been to sacrifice Jack to stop Chuck. Guilt tightens his chest. “I just wanted to do something special for him. So he’d know he’s still family.”

The woman nods again, then places a gentle hand on his elbow. “Honey, the thing I’ve found, over the years, is that the more you worry about how things are gonna turn out, the more problems seem to crop up. The best moments are the ones that just happen.” 

Dean huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, well, the stuff that ‘just happens’ to me doesn’t tend to be good.” He clears his throat. “But I get what you mean. I just...I really wanted to do this for him. I...we’ve gotten a...second chance, lately, and I wanna make the most of it.” He looks at the list in his hand, and then balls it up, shoving it into his pocket. “It’s stupid. I dunno why I thought--”

“Hold on, now.” The woman says, interrupting him. “I’m not saying you should give up. It’s a nice thing you’re doing, here. Let me help.” 

Dean sighs, but he nods. “Okay. How?”

She smiles.

ii. december 23rd

Dean sneaks into the kitchen to check that the bread ingredients, including the ziploc baggie of pecans he’d picked up himself from the old woman’s front yard, are still stashed safely away in the back of a disused cabinet. He’d offered to pay her, but she’d waved him off, told him to give his boy a hug for her instead. “You’re gonna be okay,” she had told him, “you and that kid of yours.”

The supplies are still hidden. He’s chased everyone else out of the kitchen for the foreseeable future, anyway, since he’s got a whole big meal planned and he’s a little bit particular about how things are done, now that he’s got a real kitchen to cook in. Besides, Cas always makes the appliances fritz, and Sam would just complain about there not being enough vegetables on the menu. Eileen’s not a hindrance, but she’s not exactly a chef, either, and anyway Sam follows her around like a lost puppy. 

Part of Dean wants to invite Jack to cook with him, but the kid’s been sort of avoiding him, since...everything. Dean’s not sure he’d want to spend time alone together, and he doesn’t wanna put him in an awkward position. He sighs, finishing putting his things away and going to seek out Cas. 

He finds him in the library with Jack, Sam, and Eileen. They’re unpacking boxes of lights and ornaments, stacking the contents around the Christmas tree he and Cas had cut from the woods around the bunker yesterday. The angel looks up when Dean walks in, and the smile that lights up his face has Dean blushing, his heart clenching warmly. There’s still a part of him that can’t believe this is really his life now, that he really gets to have Cas, that an angel could love Dean of all people. He pushes his doubts away, smiling back at Cas and coming to sit next to him. 

“Getting ready to decorate?” He asks, glancing at Sam and Eileen before wrapping a cautious arm around Cas’ shoulders. Cas leans into the touch, and Dean feels his whole body light up with happiness at the closeness. 

“Mmm, Jack insisted we wait for you.” Cas informs him. 

Dean raises his eyebrows at Cas, and then looks at Jack, who is watching them from where he’s knelt in front of one of the boxes, a guarded expression on his face. 

“I didn’t wanna leave you out.” Jack murmurs, not looking directly at Dean.

He can feel all eyes on him, even Sam and Eileen, who had previously been engaged in an enthusiastic conversation in ASL. He swallows. “Well. Now that I’m here we can get started. Probably don’t even need a ladder, thanks to Sasquatch over here.” He nods at Sam, who laughs, shaking his head. But the tension of the moment is broken.

Dean watches Jack as he excitedly puts lights on the tree, passing them around to Cas, who passes them to Sam. They hadn’t exactly had a chance to have a real Christmas, before. There was always something, one apocalypse or another, looming over their heads. It’s good to see the kid happy and relaxed. Well, mostly relaxed, anyway. His shoulders still tense up when he looks over at Dean, and Dean feels shame and worry twist in his stomach. It makes sense that the kid would be pissed at him. Dean had basically signed off his approval on a plan that was set to kill him. He’d screamed at all of them that the only thing that mattered was stopping Chuck. He’s messed up so many times with Jack. He just wishes he could find a way to make it up to him.

They’ve moved on to ornaments, now, and Cas must see the way Dean’s staying back, eyeing Jack and trying to give him some space to just enjoy himself. Dean doesn’t even realize he’s come to check on him until he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder. 

“Jack isn’t angry with you, Dean.” He says, as always seeing right into Dean’s soul with those blue eyes. Dean can hardly stand the fond expression on his face. He sighs.

“Yeah, well. M’still angry at myself.” He murmurs. “I dunno how to make him less...skittish, around me.”

Cas frowns, watching Jack laugh with Eileen about some joke Dean hadn’t caught. He’s still working on his signing. “He just needs time, Dean. Both of you do.” He slides his hand down Dean’s arm, watches his face as he threads their fingers together, just as hesitant as Dean, it seems. “But...we’re a family again. You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Dean smiles. “I know.” He bites his lip. “I hope you’re right, Cas. I really do. I just...I feel like I’ve let him down.”

“Dean,” Cas frowns, lifting his free hand to cradle Dean’s cheek. Dean leans into his hand, closing his eyes, “you have  _ not  _ let him down. What you and Jack have been through...it is hardly ordinary circumstances. You’ve done exceptionally, considering.” He insists. “Jack looks up to you. You’ve taught him so much. He loves you, Dean.” He smiles, reveling in the ability to say his next words. “As do I.”

Dean fights down the urge to argue. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and nods. “I love you too, Cas.” He says. And then, despite the fact that there’s not mistletoe around, at least none that Dean’s aware of, Dean leans forward, and presses a soft kiss to Cas’ lips, letting the thrill of it drown out his worry.

iii. december 24th

It’s  _ very  _ hard, Dean discovers, to sneak off in the middle of the night when you share a bedroom with an angel who doesn’t need to sleep. He’d been stealing moments already throughout the day to work his way through the recipe, but it’s not quite done, and he wants to serve it for breakfast while they all open presents. 

“I’m going to check on Jack.” Cas says, when Dean cracks his eyes open to see if the coast is clear and finds Cas already sliding out of bed. 

Dean nods. The kid doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he has a lot of nightmares. There was a time when Dean checked on him too, but lately...it’s best if Cas goes, and not just because it doesn’t disturb his rest. “M’gonna get a glass of water. Make sure stuff’s ready for tomorrow.” He says, grateful for the excuse. 

Cas frowns. “I can do that. You should sleep.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, dude, m’not going into Christmas dinner with a broken fridge or something. S’fine.” He smiles, and pecks Cas on the cheek as he gets up and throws his robe on, to soften the teasing. Cas smiles.

The second problem, Dean finds, is that kneading is  _ hard.  _ For one thing, the dough is sticky. Is it supposed to be this sticky? He’s not sure. But once he’s got his hands in the mixture and realizes he needs more flour, he can’t get the dough off his hands to reach into the bag and get some more. He grunts in frustration.

“Dean?” 

Dean starts at the sound of Cas’ voice from the door. He turns, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or, in his case, the bread dough. “Um. I can explain.”

Cas frowns. “Are you...baking?” Cas asks, taking in the site. He glances at the clock on the wall. “At 3 a.m.?” 

Dean sighs. “It’s supposed to be bread. I wanted it to be a surprise. For Jack.” He pauses. “I thought...I don’t know what to say to him, Cas. I don’t know how to fix this. But I know how to cook. Or, I thought I did. But I keep... _ messing up. _ ” He huffs in frustration. 

Cas smiles, looking so fond Dean thinks his heart might bloom right out of his chest. “Let me help.” He says. 

Dean shakes his head. “No way, Cas, I already told you--”

“I won’t touch any appliances.” He interrupts, holding his hands up in surrender. “I promise.”

Dean pauses, debating with himself, and then sighs. “Fine. Wash your hands, and then sprinkle some more flour on here. I’m kind of stuck.”

Cas laughs, a small, gentle sound that makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat, and comes to his rescue.

i. december 25th

Jack is up early on Christmas. Cas wakes Dean with a gentle kiss on his forehead. He blinks his eyes open, smiling up at Cas from where he fell asleep once they finished with the bread, head pillowed on his chest.

“Morning, sunshine.” Dean murmurs sleepily.

“Goodmorning, Dean. Merry Christmas.” 

Dean grins. “Merry Christmas to you, too.” He yawns, then sits up, reluctant to leave the comfort of their bed, but he needs to get up so they can get on with opening presents. “S’everybody else away.” 

Cas smiles fondly. “Yes. Jack is...enthusiastic.”

Dean laughs. “Kids on Christmas, Cas. Nothing like it.”

They congregate in the library to get things ready, but Dean makes his way to the kitchen instead. He’s got a pot of coffee going, and the bread in the oven, when Jack finds his way in. 

“It smells good in here.” He says, and Dean smiles.

“Thanks, kid.” Dean says, pride warming him in the bunker’s morning chill. “Is everybody ready?”

“Yes. Castiel sent me to help you carry things. He said we could eat in the library.”

Dean nods. “Let me check this.” He opens the oven, and peers inside. The bread’s got a nice crust on it, and it smells awesome, if Dean says so himself. “Hand me an oven mitt?” He asks, and Jack obliges, eyes widening when he sees what Dean pulls out of the oven. 

The shape had been one of the hardest parts of the project. Dean had watched a couple YouTube videos on plaiting, and then he’d figured out, with Cas’ help, how to twist the braided pieces of bread into the shape of a W.

“For ‘Winchester.’” He explains, when he shows it to Jack. “Because that’s who we are. All of us.” He glances at Jack shyly, and offers him a smile. Sure, words might not be his thing, but he figured he could handle a letter.

Jack looks up at him, and there are tears in his wide eyes. Dean clears his throat, and sets the bread on the counter. “Dean--” Jack starts, but Dean interrupts him.

“Hold on. I’ve got something for you. I, uh. I didn’t wrap it. But I wanted to give it to you first.” He reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out a pocket knife. He hands it to Jack. “This was my mom’s. Her dad gave it to her when she was a teenager, I think. It, uh. Survived the housefire. Dad gave it to me when I turned sixteen. But...I want you to have it. I’m...not sure what our whole future looks like, with Chuck gone. I dunno if you wanna keep hunting or not. It’s pure silver, so it’s good against shifters. But it’s also good for...well, anything a normal kid would use a pocketknife for.” He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. “Anyway. Merry Christmas, kid.”

He’s barely gotten the last words out of his mouth before Jack has thrown himself at him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and burying his face in his chest. “Thank you.” He breathes. It’s muffled against’ Dean’s shirt.

“You’re welcome, Jack.” He breathes, lifting his arms to hug him back, and as he does, he can’t help but think about the woman at the store who gave him the pecans.  _ Yeah _ , he thinks,  _ we’re gonna be okay _ .


End file.
